


But at least the war is over

by Beleriandings



Series: Salvage [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Bittersweet, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Series 03 Fix-It: Children of Earth (Torchwood), Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27421630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: Sometimes, it came back to Gwen. She’d be doing something ordinary – changing Anwen or rocking her to sleep, helping Ianto tidy up or inspecting the gun locker that stood in the hallway, for easy access – and it would roll over her like a tide.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, background Jack/Ianto
Series: Salvage [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047811
Comments: 22
Kudos: 44





	But at least the war is over

When it was over, when it was finally over and the 456 were banished from earth, when they’d brought the children back to Rhiannon and Johnny and all the rest of their parents, she stood shoulder to shoulder with Rhys in a little tarmacced yard on the estate, rather at a loss. It was one of those in-between moments you got in the wake of a crisis, tiny lulls in the action between talking to the police and cleaning up and sifting through the wreckage; Gwen knew such moments intimately these days, having lived a life of damage control and sweeping up the debris left by alien invasions for so long that she was well used to how the aftermath usually went.

This, though. This was different, this hit closer to home than anything before. Jack, she thought, was entirely right with his assurances that everything was going to change.

 _Jack_ … where was Jack? Oh, yes, he was still in London. He’d done something to save the world, she knew. She didn’t know what yet, but she was sure this was down to him. After that he’d probably rushed back to the hospital to be at Ianto’s bedside when he woke up, and was probably still there; she didn’t begrudge them that. They’d had a hard time of this too, after all, and they deserved a moment to breathe.

But now it was just her and Rhys, standing on the tarmac in the wake of everything.

Or rather, her and Rhys and the tiny, growing thing inside her that would be their baby, just an embryo right now but not for long, not long until their lives would change forever. She should probably get used to the idea sooner rather than later.

She reached for Rhys’s hand, and he grasped hers back hard, fingers lacing together so tightly it almost hurt. She looked over at him to see him looking at her, his eyebrows slightly raised; there was an open vulnerability that tugged like a hook in her heart.

Gwen never meant for Rhys to see this side of it, was the thing. Oh, she was happy – relieved even – when he got to keep his memories, when she could finally stop hiding her life from him and be able to confide in him and lean on him when she was dealing with something horrible she’d seen at work that day. But _this_ … this was different. The things they’d seen and heard in the last few days had changed how she saw the world, had shown her human cruelty beyond what she’d thought possible, and suddenly she wished more than anything else that Rhys hadn’t had to see it.

The thing was: she’d made a promise, a long time ago, that she’d never retcon Rhys again, and she was determined to hold to that. But even if she’d had a moment of weakness and wanted to break her promise – to save him the grief and the weight of it – she couldn’t; the world was too different now, and the gap left by the lost memories would attract attention like a pulled tooth, would be too obvious to ignore.

So she just looked back into his face, trying to force her features into a smile as best she could. It felt wrong on her face, even though probably it shouldn’t. There _were_ things to be happy about, Gwen knew; the alien threat was gone, and all of her friends – her family – had come out of this alive.

But still. It felt odd to smile, when two hours ago she and Rhys had been hiding out in corrugated iron shed with a whole gaggle of children under eight years old, hiding them from police outfitted with full military gear, ordered to take them away as bargaining chips for an alien hostage situation. Those children shouldn’t have had to go through that, and neither should Rhys.

It was all wrong, Gwen thought as she stared back at Rhys, his eyes welling up with tears as her own did. She pulled him into her arms just like that, sobbing into the shoulder of his jacket. She could feel the hitch of his own breath in his chest. They’d won, but it didn’t stop it being _wrong_ , it didn’t stop the fact that the world felt different now, crueller, more frightening than she’d ever realised.

And now they were bringing a new life into it; Rhys’s child, and hers.

All she could do, in this in-between time, was hold on and not let him go.

* * *

Sometimes, it came back to Gwen. She’d be doing something ordinary – changing Anwen or rocking her to sleep, helping Ianto tidy up or inspecting the gun locker that stood in the hallway, for easy access – and it would roll over her like a tide. A vast and crushing sense of futility; she had her friends still, her family, but it didn’t change the fact that the world was the way it was, it didn’t change what she’d seen.

That was how it was now, and probably always would be.

She was standing over Anwen’s crib, adjusting the hanging star-shaped rattles that Jack had got her, when Anwen woke up and started to wail. Something shifted in Gwen’s heart then, and suddenly she was reaching for her daughter, pulling her into her arms and rubbing her back and crying herself. Gwen didn’t even know where the sobs came from, but sometimes, these days, it was like something broke open inside her. She couldn’t predict how or when; she thought maybe that was just how it was now.

She bounced Anwen, sobbing herself even as she tried to shush her; she didn’t know what was wrong. Anwen didn’t seem to need changing, or burping, and she’d just been fed half an hour ago. Of course Gwen knew that sometimes babies just _cried_ , overwhelmed by the _too-big-_ _to-bright-_ _too-new_ world around them, and when that happened you just had to comfort them. But Gwen still felt guilty; she wasn’t _good_ at this, came a cruel little voice from inside her. She’d already betrayed Anwen by bringing her into a world like this, a world ruled by people that would sell away its children.

She was full-on sobbing in counterpoint to Anwen’s yells by the time the door burst open.

“Gwen!” came Rhys’s voice, already going to her and putting his arm under hers, taking some of Anwen’s weight and wrapping his other arm around her shoulder. “Love, what is it?”

“Are you okay?” said Jack, looking around as though scouting the room for alien threats.

“Jack was making dinner and we heard the baby monitor go” explained Ianto, following them in. “Is Anwen… _oh_.”

Gwen looked up at them; her family, or those she had left anyway, all rushing to the little attic room in their cottage on the beach at the sounds of her and Anwen’s distress. She loved them all so much, she thought as Rhys held her and Anwen. She tucked her face into his shirt and let her tears flow, hot and cleansing, as Jack came and held her on her other side, pulling Ianto into the hug to lean his chin against her forehead, until finally they were all grouped around with Gwen and Anwen in the middle.

Anwen stopped crying first, hiccuping a little in Gwen’s arms as she was surrounded by the warmth of her family. After that Gwen stopped too, but the others didn’t let go; they just held onto them both, Ianto’s head leaning against hers and his hand squeezing her arm, Jack’s arms tight around all of them, his heartbeat warm and constant at her back. Rhys’s arm around her other shoulder, their sleeping daughter cradled between them in a warm pocket of safety.

Gwen was more grateful of them than she could say; that after everything, she’d got to make this little family and keep holding them close.

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of a longer thing that I lost motivation for actually finishing, but I think actually this works better on its own.  
> The title is of course a lyric from In Our Bedroom After the War by Stars, which may be a bit cliche but listen. the vibes of it are just perfect for post-CoE :(((


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